


want and need, their patience, their cruelty

by crookedspoon



Category: Before Crisis: Final Fantasy VII, Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Pre-Canon, Underage - Jaded and flirty teen seduces reluctant and principled adult old enough to be his father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:47:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28903623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: It has taken the better part of six months but Rufus is finally getting somewhere with his efforts.
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Veld
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13
Collections: Bulletproof 20/21





	want and need, their patience, their cruelty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [furchte_die_schildkrote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/furchte_die_schildkrote/gifts).



> Hi, furchte_die_schildkrote! I saw your prompt and had to write this. Hope it fits the bill <3
> 
> Canon knowledge not required, I don't think. Pictures: [Rufus](https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/finalfantasy/images/6/69/Bc-rufus.jpg). [Veld](https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/finalfantasy/images/c/c1/VerdotIconFF7BC.jpg).

It has taken the better part of six months but Rufus is finally getting somewhere with his efforts. He's quite sure he could have made his subject crack sooner, but it was important not to appear too desperate. Rufus was doing Veld a favour, after all, not the other way around.

Though, to be fair, right at this moment Veld _would_ be doing Rufus a favour if he bent him over his desk and fucked him. Rufus is hard just from thinking about it. And even if Veld doesn't have the same idea, his cock is definitely interested in some action, too.

If Rufus has learned one thing throughout all this, however, it's never to let his anticipation get the better of him.

He's lost count of the times he thought Veld would finally cave and give him what they both wanted. But Veld is amazingly stubborn. Steadfast, other people would probably call it, but to Rufus it's more of a nuisance. 

Sure, the chase has been fun, the experience most rewarding – but there were moments these last few weeks that left even Rufus frustrated. Like that one time Rufus had been getting ready to blow Veld: undoing his belt and fly, finding him hard to the touch – even getting to stroke him through the fabric of his underwear, all without Veld shoving him away. Rufus felt an immense surge of triumph at that. And then his stupid PHS had to ring. As if his underlings were incapable of doing basic tasks without calling Veld for instructions every few seconds. So close. Rufus had been _so close._

Or the time before that, when Rufus was making out with Veld in his office chair. The intensity of Veld's suppressed desire genuinely went to Rufus's head. His eagerness had been real, but it also might have been the thing that spooked Veld. Rufus had bunched his fists into his dress shirt, loosened his tie, pushed the jacket off his shoulders, even gone so far as to grind his hips against Veld's, and the man had let it all happen. But the moment Rufus snaked a hand into his trousers, his old reservations resurfaced – though, curiously, what he told Rufus was that he suddenly remembered a meeting he had to attend. With his father no less, so he couldn't just call in to cancel. Veld was not someone who forgot appointments, even with Rufus there to distract him. What was interesting about this was that his _father_ had no meeting scheduled with Veld at this time – Rufus knew his father's agenda by heart and would not have put Veld in the position to choose which Shinra to prioritise. (Disregarding the fact that that's exactly what Rufus has been doing by coming onto Veld in the first place. But this is different. This is more abstract than that.) 

Which made Rufus wonder: why the barefaced lie? He could have just sent Rufus away with the usual refrain of "We can't do this." All his lie accomplished was to suggest they couldn't do it right that moment. Which in turn suggested that Veld chickened out at the last minute, but was not dissuading Rufus from trying again. Not that dissuasion had done him any good so far. He's just not very convincing at it.

"We can't do this" was what he had said the first time Rufus had propositioned him. Not "I don't want to do this" (which Rufus might have equally ignored) or anything else that did not sound like "I would be interested if you were older and not my employer's son." Two arguments that had no validity in Rufus's book, but then again, he's biased. He's plenty old enough to be having sex with whomever he chooses, and if he gets to thumb his nose at his old man while doing it, all the better. (Which does not count as a mature argument, Rufus realises, but it's one he stands by anyway.)

It had started innocently enough, with suppressed smiles, coy glances that grew bolder over time, and offhand comments designed to be misconstrued – designed to send someone trained in discovering hidden meanings reeling, trying to decipher whether those messages were real or imagined. Rufus requested him as his personal bodyguard on occasion, saying that none of his subordinates are any good at chess. Those sessions gave him ample opportunity to influence the way Veld saw him without being too obvious about it, like making him focus on his lips while pretending to be deep in thought. The only downside was that eventually Rufus got more invested in winning the game in front of him rather than the one he was setting up longterm to pay much heed to the signals he was sending. Then again, Veld was splitting his attention between the game and actually doing his job, taking stock of their surroundings to notice threats should they arise. So Rufus can't be certain how much of his effort actually sticks. To make sure at least something does, he starts undressing for a shower while still in conversation with Veld, before excusing himself to the bathroom. It's a habit he keeps up around his other bodyguards to varying degrees, just to establish that he's generally unconcerned with what his bodyguards see. 

For a time, Rufus had considered asking Veld to accompany him at the shooting range to adjust his stance, but that plan lacked credibility. Rufus is quite versatile with the firearms in his father's arsenal, except perhaps the latest prototypes Scarlet had R&D whip up. So he asked Veld to spar with him instead. Which didn't leave as much room for flirting – despite his age, Veld is still fit enough to exhaust even Rufus – but the physicality of the exercise should be enough. It introduced Veld to Rufus's body not just as an idea but as something he can grip and smell and taste. Even if he was only subconsciously aware of it at first.

Moving past that stage proved difficult. They seemed to stall there for a while, and Rufus couldn't figure out whether Veld was simply oblivious, or purposely ignoring him. Surely the man could not be this slow on the uptake. He must be denying his instincts quite firmly if he can't – or won't – see what Rufus is doing. Perhaps Rufus had been too subtle. Perhaps it had something to do with Veld's modesty. Perhaps he didn't think of himself as someone who drew the eyes of others. As a spymaster, his job is to notice other people, not be noticed in turn.

Rufus had no choice but to up his game. He liked to corner him in the elevator that connected the sub-levels – where Veld's department had its headquarters – to the executive meeting rooms sixty storeys farther up. He would ask Veld about his day or recent developments within the company that he should be taking an interest in, all the while growing bolder in his advances. He felt up Veld's arm through his suit, ran his hand over his shoulder and left it there. It inched ever closer to his neck until Rufus's thumb could brush Veld's skin just above his collar. Veld might as well have been a statue for all the emotion he displayed, moving only as the elevator reached their destination. And even then he hesitated briefly before plucking Rufus's hand from his shoulder, and hesitated again before letting it go, clearing his throat and excusing himself.

Rufus _delighted_ in all of Veld's reactions to him: the colour that dusted his cheeks, the tremor in his hand whenever he touched him, even the way his silences grew stonier in a way that Rufus associates with arousal. Veld seemed to linger in his presence, as though first having to fill himself with it before being able to resolutely put him at his back.

It was _something._

After a while he even gave up the protests about his job security. Rufus is pretty sure his father would summon only a token protest to learn that one of his directors had been leading his son astray (never the other way around), assign grunt work to Veld as punishment, and then let him do as he wished with Rufus. Veld knows too much about the company and all its shady dealings to be let go – and he's still too valuable an asset to be liquidated, which his aptly named _termination_ would result in.

Rufus _really_ wanted to put that theory to the test, but however much Veld's protests were weakening, he maintained the one about his age. It was frustrating, and so unnecessary. Veld wanted Rufus, so why subject himself to waiting only to make _other_ people happy who could _potentially_ question his conduct. Well, Rufus wasn't having it. In a last-ditch effort to break Veld's resolve, he went so far as to get off in front of the man – he might refuse to touch Rufus himself, surely he could watch? No one was making Rufus do this. Rufus wanted to do it.

Later, this turned out to be the straw that broke the camel's back, but in the immediate aftermath Rufus was a tad annoyed with himself. So much for not appearing desperate. (Though mostly he was annoyed in general that Veld hadn't railed him then and there.)

Now that they can finally make out without Veld having a guilty meltdown over it, Rufus no longer understands how he _survived_ that glacial progression. Possibly because he couldn't imagine how _good_ Veld would feel pressing against him, holding him close. The bergamot in his aftershave alone is enough to get him in the mood. Couple that with the scratch of Veld's stubble against his lips and the waxy feel of Veld's gloves against his skin, and Rufus is straining his pants. Even with all the fabric between them, their cocks feel amazing rubbing against each other.

Rufus knew that today was going to be different the moment he stepped into Veld's office. He barely had to announce his presence when Veld stood and all but hauled him into his embrace. Rufus is not going to lie: Veld pushing him up against his desk and _initiating_ a kiss like he's been dying for it is the hottest thing ever. Rufus needs his cock inside of him, stat.

"I wasn't expecting this kind of welcome," he says as he pushes off Veld's jacket and hooks his legs around Veld's hips. The last thing he needs is Veld fleeing again.

"Was I too forceful?" Veld hesitates, but Rufus drags him back into a kiss.

"I'm not complaining. This is perfect. Just a rather conspicuous turnabout of the overall trend. You haven't exactly been forthcoming."

"I apologise for my behaviour," Veld says so seriously Rufus is almost sorry he brought it up. "I... well, I've enumerated my concerns in the past."

Has he ever...

"I'm not questioning your motives," Rufus assures him. Shiva knows his own motives are far from pure. "And I don't need explanations. I'm just expressing my surprise, is all. And my delight, if I may add."

Veld regards him with that unreadable gaze of his, then nods solemnly. At least the tremor in his hands is an indication that he's not as unruffled as he might appear. 

"Do you still want this?" he asks, as if Rufus hadn't been pursuing him for months. Rufus closes his eyes the moment he feels Veld's knuckles brush his cheek. The leather of his glove is cool against his heated skin.

"I..." Rufus trails off, caught in the moment. He can't believe this is happening. And he also can't believe he's not decisively grabbing it by the horns yet. He snaps his eyes open and fixes Veld with the most sincere gaze he can muster. "More than ever."

Veld gives a sharp nod, like how Rufus imagines him to receive directives from his father, and then he kisses Rufus again and Rufus thinks his skin is about to melt. He's so hot he's thankful to Veld for unbuttoning his shirt, though when he moves on down to his belt and fly, another surge of heat shoots through Rufus and settles firmly on his face. The sudden role reversal takes him by surprise – not in a bad way, although it's certainly weird after they've established a certain pattern around each other.

It almost makes Rufus feel like he's out of his depths, although he would never admit as much.

His cock throbs as he helps Veld free it from his briefs. He's wide-eyed and stunned, reacting only to the touch of Veld's fingers on his hips, turning him to face the desk. Rufus exhales shakily as he places his palms flat onto the polished surface, on either side of an open folder. He's disappointed with himself for losing his composure in this manner, but he also doesn't care any longer. All he cares about is that Veld goes through with this.

Veld's gloves land on the desk and the next thing Rufus knows is a finger breaching him. He goes slack-jawed at the sensation and focuses on relaxing and opening up.

"You came prepared," Veld remarks, as if Rufus would make the amateur mistake of seducing someone only to then bid them wait until he's ready to take it.

"You should know by now that I'm always ready to take you at a moment's notice," he says and throws a saucy look over his shoulder. "Or haven't I made that clear enough these past few months?"

"I... had never thought this far," Veld admits, though perhaps he's lying to save face. Rufus doesn't care about that for now.

"Well?" he prompts. "Are you going to use this to our advantage?"

Behind him, Veld makes a sound that would have been a grunt if his throat hadn't tightened beforehand, or so Rufus chooses to interpret it. What actually draws his attention is the crinkle of plastic. So, Veld also came prepared. This isn't just a spur of the moment decision, or if it is, he had been anticipating this to happen. Though for how long?

Rufus discards that thought as unimportant for now, because the blunt head of Veld's cock is prodding at his hole, spreading cold gel over it. Rufus sucks in a breath and presses back. The bulbous head pops inside and Rufus moans, long and loud, his eyes falling shut.

"Fuck yes, fucking _finally,_ oh ye gods. _Fuck_ me."

Veld's scorching hands take hold of his hips and keep them in place as he works his cock into Rufus. It stretches him so deliciously. How often had Rufus fingered himself imagining just this? Obviously, the real thing is infinitely better.

Rufus braces himself on his elbows, his body trembling as it takes Veld's entire length. To think they could have had this so much sooner. Perhaps then Rufus would have been able to hold out longer. But he's been stretched thin with frustration. All he can do is focus on his immediate surroundings as he teeters on the edge, trying to stave off the inevitable.

He looks at the pencil holder diagonally in front of him and how it rattles with each of Veld's thrust. He watches the sweat drop from his brow onto the folder beneath him and how the paper soaks up the moisture, distorting the point of impact like a bullet wound.

He's panting now and burning up and feeling so fucking fantastic. He's so close, every nerve ending primed for release. And just then, Veld hits his prostate with pinpoint accuracy. His vision explodes into shards and he comes with an embarrassingly guttural cry.

Veld fucks him through it; every slap of Veld's hips against his own sends an electric shiver up his spine.

As his vision clears, he's still shaking and spasming on Veld's cock. His skin is prickling and his shirt is disgustingly damp with sweat, but he feels vibrant and alive. 

He's grinning stupidly to himself as Veld reaches his own orgasm. The man is bucking against him, thrusting his cock as deep as it would go.

Rufus has to suppress a wave of giddiness to stop himself from laughing. _Finally._ He's exhausted now, but getting to fuck Veld after all this time is just so, so _satisfying._

Not trusting his legs just yet, Rufus remains where he is, bent over Veld's paperwork. He scans the pages just to give his aimlessly racing mind something to do – and then he starts laughing out loud for real.

Without looking, he can feel Veld's spine stiffen at his back.

"So that's what changed your mind," Rufus says and wipes the tears from his eyes, turning over and leaning back on his elbow. His shirt falls open to either side, revealing an expanse of skin from his neck right down to his knees. Veld, on the other hand is already buttoning up again. "You wanted to get back at my father."

"That's not—"

"Please," Rufus waves him off with a flap of his wrist. "You wouldn't be the first, and it's not like I mind. You might even say I approve. Pissing off my father is quality entertainment."

"I assure you, your father has little to do with it."

"Doesn't he? If he forced _me_ to take responsibility for a decision I expressly urged him not to make, I'd be angry enough to do something drastic as well."

Veld peers at him curiously as he's doing up his cuffs. "You got all that from a personnel file?"

Rufus shrugs. "I pay attention. And I do very much enjoy our chats in the elevator."

"I should take better care," Veld says as though seeing him in a whole new light. "You're on your way to becoming a very dangerous man, Rufus."

With a smile that falls somewhere between pleasant and predatory, Rufus runs a hand through his hair and draws himself up to his full height. 

"Then I guess it would pay to keep a _very_ close eye on me."

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Detox Psalm" by William Brewer.


End file.
